expression twisted. ‘No, she is mistaken. There is no formal betrothal between us, despite what my father wanted.’
Though she revealed no reaction, inwardly she wondered if the queen had brought them together on purpose. It was indeed likely.
Ronan crossed his arms and stared at her. She couldn’t quite guess his thoughts, but his gaze passed over her slowly as if he were memorising her features.
She fumbled for something to say but could not come up with a single word. He was staring at her as if he found her beautiful. And a piece of her spirit warmed to it.
‘Is something wrong?’ He took a step closer and reached out to touch her nape. The warm wetness of his hand was a distraction she hadn’t anticipated.
‘What are you doing?’
He pulled at her veil, revealing her long dark hair. ‘I want to see you. It seems reasonable enough, given how much you have seen of me.’
She gaped at that. ‘No, that is unnecessary.’ She reached out for her veil, but he continued to stare, holding the length of linen under one arm. Joan let out a sigh and stared back. His green eyes held interest, which she didn’t want at all. ‘Give me my veil, my lord.’
But he held it and ignored her command. ‘You are fair of face. It surprises me that you are not yet married.’
Because they all died, she wanted to answer. It was quite a hindrance.
Still, her vanity warmed to his words. She wished she could stop herself from reacting so strongly to this man. And so, she squared her shoulders and changed the conversation in a new direction. ‘I bid you good fortune in winning back your castle and rescuing your father.’
‘I need your brothers’ help,’ he admitted. ‘But they will not give up soldiers...not unless you can convince them to fight for my people’s sake.’ His voice was deep and husky, and her wayward thoughts turned down the wrong path.
Now what did he mean by that? He was a stranger to her, and she had no reason to intervene on his behalf. But she could not deny that he attracted her.
‘I am not opposed to helping your cause,’ she said slowly, ‘but how do you suppose I should convince my brothers? Do you intend to pay them for their soldiers?’ Warrick and Rhys would never endanger their men on behalf of a stranger—even if he was an Irish prince. ‘They will want something in return.’
‘I can offer them an alliance and protection for Killalough, once my father is king again. But I leave that answer in your hands,’ he said. ‘You will know what your brothers want in return better than me. And if you do manage to convince them on my behalf, I would grant you your own wish.’
Joan nearly choked at the offer. It wasn’t as if she could ask this man for a baby. That was a conversation she could never imagine. Even so, she felt the flustered heat rising once more. Wild thoughts entered her mind, of lying naked upon her bed. Would Ronan enter her chamber and touch her intimately? Would he claim her body night after night, in the hopes that his seed would take root?
She closed her eyes and forced the sensual vision away. Despite the curse, she could not imagine falling into such sin. Not to mention, her brothers would eviscerate him for touching her.
‘N-no, I don’t need anything from you.’ She clenched her hands at her sides, trying to calm the restlessness within. But it was difficult with him wearing only the drying cloth and standing so near.
‘I think you do. But you don’t want to tell me what it is,’ Ronan predicted. His voice was low and deep, almost tempting. She started to turn away, but he caught her hand. ‘Why is that?’
Because it would be a terrible mistake. Even if she enjoyed his body in the way her brothers’ wives had said she would.
No, she had no choice but to remain untouched for the rest of her life. It did not matter that she wanted a baby of her own. She had to content herself with her nieces and nephews. Why, then, was the thought so bleak?
‘Well?’ he prompted. His thumb stroked the centre of her palm, and her body yearned for more. She imagined him caressing her in other places, and it sent a flare of need between her legs.
Stop this, she warned herself and straightened. ‘I don’t have to tell you what I want. Only that it has nothing to do with you.’
‘You don’t like me.’ From the way he said it, it seemed almost like a challenge. And he was wrong—she liked what she saw very much. He unnerved her in a way no man ever had.
But she kept her tone calm and said, ‘I like you well enough. But that doesn’t mean we need to make a bargain between us. I will speak to my brothers, but the choice is theirs as to whether our men will fight for you.’
He studied her a moment and told her, ‘Your brothers wanted me to barter marriage in exchange for their army.’
She wanted to curse at their meddling. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘That will never happen.’
The prince was silent for a moment, and the only sound in the chamber was the dripping of water. ‘Good. Then we are in agreement.’
His blunt statement should have reassured her, but she had not expected his refusal. Instead, she waited for him to elaborate. ‘I cannot be wedded right now,’ he continued. ‘My first concern must be for my people.’
Joan understood that. He had been forced into a desperate position, one where lives were at stake. And she offered her own sympathy. ‘You are right to fear for them, and I hope you can save them. I will do what I can to convince Warrick and Rhys. But they don’t want to accept that marriage is the last thing I want.’
‘Especially to a man like me.’ There was a mocking note in the midst of his deprecating remark.
Joan softened her voice. ‘If I ever intended to marry, I would consider you—or at least, a man like you. But as I said before, I cannot wed anyone.’
Ronan released her hand, his gaze penetrating. She was acutely aware of him and the heat of his skin. It took an effort not to rest her hands upon his hewn chest, sliding her fingers over the ridge of thick muscle.
‘Your brother told me that your intended husband died,’ he said. ‘I am sorry for it.’
It happens too often, she wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, she answered, ‘I had never seen him before. I didn’t know anything about Murdoch.’
‘What will you do now?’
She shrugged. ‘I may enter a convent. Or perhaps I will return to my father’s house and look after him, now that he is a widower.’ She glanced down at him, still distracted that he wore only a drying cloth. ‘I should go and let you get dressed.’
‘Not yet.’ His demeanour shifted, and he took on a commanding tone. In that moment, he was a prince in every sense of the word. ‘I need an army to help take back my kingdom. The MacEgans will help, and possibly your brothers’ men. But once they leave, my father’s stepson will only drive our supporters out again.’
Her brow furrowed, for she didn’t quite understand what he wanted from her.
Then
